The autumn of our mutual care has heavily dropped on the hazy heath
So the whistle of the nightingale has swiftly been muffled as if
A shrill shiver of dissent had run through a sound body of knowledge.
And this smile - born deep in your abyssal eyes - now twisting into a harmful grin
Conspicuously rejoices at my helpless distress and bottomless needs.
A tornado - that's what it is! - triggered by a once-pretty treacherous butterfly
Flapping the lascivious sighs and washing the blossoming dreams
Off the shores of our past assurance.
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samedi 16 janvier 2010
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